


Before he knows what he drags down

by iarrannme



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Child Soldiers, Gen, Humor, Mentors, Post-Battle of Sokovia, Post-Civil War (Marvel), Sokovia Accords, the importance of churros in placating assassins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-22
Updated: 2019-11-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:21:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21526666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iarrannme/pseuds/iarrannme
Summary: He’d been home from Germany for a week (he’d stolen Captain America’s shield, he’dstolen Captain America’s shield!!!!!), he got to keep the suit, surely Mr. Stark would call him again any day, what even was his life?  Then it turned out someone had noticed his voice sounded awfully young…
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s), Peter Parker & Natasha Romanov, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 19
Kudos: 170
Collections: Favourite Spider-Man Fics, Our Spider, Women being awesome





	Before he knows what he drags down

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from “Boy Soldier” by Fred D’Aguiar. Thanks to [SpideyFics](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpideyFics/pseuds/SpideyFics) for the beta.

His eyes lit up as the 2:45 bell rang. He was out the school doors and over the gate, heading as rapidly as he thought would go unnoticed for his favorite alley, when he saw her. On his side of the street. Walking towards him. She wore sunglasses and had a scarf over her red hair, but he’d seen that fluidity on the airport tarmac last week in Germany and he was never going to forget it.

He could feel his eyes getting huge, his body trying to simultaneously freeze and run away. If he was ever going to manifest spider-related invisibility powers _now would be a good time_ , but no no no no no, he couldn’t give himself away – she had no reason to hurt him, she’d never seen him without the mask, this was just coincidence, she couldn’t possibly – he frantically tried to play it cool. She wasn’t even looking at him, it was fine, it was all going to be f-

He tripped and staggered into her. He’d swear she hadn’t done anything, how could she have, she’d been several feet away when it started and hadn’t even glanced at him. She barely looked at him now, merely slipped out of his way, caught him and levered him back upright in one easy movement. “Slow down, kid, watch where you’re going,” she said, sounding bored and not even waiting for a reply before she kept moving. That was a relief, because he’d realized he couldn’t talk to her – physically couldn’t have done more than squeak, but also didn’t dare let her hear his voice. He thought he’d managed to keep his face subtly turned away from her, he’d had the excuse of falling over, it was fine, she hadn’t noticed anything, it was all going to be fine.

His heart was racing, his hands were shaking and his abs were so tight he could hardly breathe. OK. He needed to stop at Delmar’s anyway. His normal routine would help him calm down.

It worked – until he reached into his pocket to grab his wallet and a note came out with it. He hadn’t put it there. He swallowed, paid for his sandwich, waved to Delmar, gave Murphy a final ear-scratch and left, hyper-alert as he stepped onto the street. He didn’t see her. Not that that meant anything.

He stepped into his preferred alley and pulled the note out again.

_I’ll be waiting where you eat your disgusting sandwiches. Web me and I will hurt you._

_This will go better for you if you bring me a churro._

There was a smiley face near the last line, but both eyes were x’s. He wasn’t sure if she’d just massively failed an attempt to be reassuring, or if she’d aimed that to be exactly as unnerving as it was.

It wasn’t signed, but he had no doubts. Also, no churros. One more stop before he could change and meet her, then. He wasn’t going to try to run away. She probably wasn’t actually on the ledge yet; she was probably waiting in whatever direction he would go if he decided to run. Or at least, if he ran, she would be.

She was waiting when he got there, sprawled with indolent grace he was sure could turn into kicking his ass in an instant. He held out the churros as unthreateningly as he could.

She took off her sunglasses, hooking them into her shirt, and her lips twisted in brief amusement before she took the churros. “Steady there,” she said, pulling up her legs to make room for him to sit in his usual spot. “Tripping here would be a bad plan.”

At least the mask hid his blush. He sat down, unsure what to say, and hesitated over pushing his mask up enough to eat before realizing that was pointless.

She was halfway through the first churro. “Up to you,” she said. “There are no active security cameras monitoring this spot anymore, but I’m hardly one to discourage paranoia. Wish you’d thought of it a week ago.”

Lunch was three hours gone; he was starving. He spoke with his mouth full. “Wha’ y’mean?” He swallowed. “Also, feeling plenty paranoid right now, thank you, nobody except Mr. Stark is supposed to know – _he_ wasn’t supposed to –”

Another faint half-smile, there and gone. “Stark doesn’t know I even asked the question. I haven’t told anyone. Yet.”

“Then why?”

She shrugged. “Wanted a churro.”

OK, no way was he going to say “bullshit” to any adult, much less Black Widow, but… “Nuh-uh,” he said around another mouthful. “Try ’gain.”

She looked right at him. “Deciding _whether_ to tell anyone. Your aunt. Child Soldiers International. The U.N. Or just set you up quietly with a therapist I trust to understand the whole superhero thing and stay discreet.” She snorted. “Might be a little delay on that option, he’s hard to reach right now, but even once he’s out he’ll have his own reasons for wanting to stay off the radar. And he’d offer…a perspective you could use.”

He hardly processed most of what she said, focused on the first important thing. “You can’t tell Aunt May! She’d _freak_ – she’d make me stop –”

He’d never seen rage on Black Widow’s face, not once during the whole airport fight, just sorrow and determination, but the flash of it he saw now had him squeaking and backing up. She hadn’t moved, just sat there with perhaps a slight clenching of her fingers, but he felt as though she’d leapt at him.

Her voice was calm and deadly. “Do you understand how lucky you are to have someone who _would_ freak out and make you stop if she knew.”

It sounded a lot more like a threat than a question. He nodded anyway.

“Because _Stark_ didn’t do either of those things. I’m not sure how long he’s known about you, but he didn’t design that suit overnight – well, he probably did, but there’s no way he just happened to figure you out exactly one night before he needed to get you on a plane. So that means he knew, and he made the suit, and then he just waited.” She paused to see if he got it.

He did, and it was making him uncomfortable. “He – he thinks I’m, you know, pretty cool.”

Her lips tightened. “You were an ace up his sleeve, to be used if convenient and ignored if not.”

“That’s not fair.”

“How much time did he spend teaching you everything about the suit? Asking you what you needed, what you wanted? Telling you exactly what was going on, what you’d get out of helping him, getting your informed consent? Making it clear he’d help you even if you declined to sneak out of the country without telling your aunt to get into a fight that might kill you or land you in prison? Colonel Rhodes is never going to walk unassisted again, are you _sure_ your healing could handle a broken spine or an exploding arrow in your eye? Is Stark? Did he discuss plans with you for telling your aunt if things did go badly?”

He opened his mouth. He shut his mouth. He scratched the back of his neck, unable to meet her eyes.

“Your powers _are_ impressive. As a fighter and a tactician, you need training, but you did well for a newbie.” A tiny smirk. “I’m going to treasure the look on Steve’s face when you stole his shield.”

He grinned. “That was so awesome!”

The smirk disappeared in an instant. “Was the whole thing _awesome_ , Peter? Was it _awesome_ that Iron Man and Captain America and the rest of us fought, that good people are now hurt or in prison or hiding and our team is torn apart? Do you even know why you were fighting?”

She’d knocked all the air right back out of him without even raising her hand or her voice. “Mr. – Mr. Stark said Captain America had gone nuts and needed to be brought in …” It sounded foolish even as he said it. If Captain America had gone nuts, why had all those other heroes fought for him? Why hadn’t Mr. Stark brought tranquillizers and made some sort of plan with Peter for using them?

Black Widow said dryly, “If anyone went nuts during this, it was Mr. Can’t-Handle-Feelings overcompensating for guilt and lashing out to avoid facing grief.” She saw Peter’s confusion even through his mask. Her nostrils flared. “If you’re going to be a superhero, _kid_ , get out of your own head and start paying attention to the context in which you use your powers – or other people get you to use them.”

“I – sorry –”

She took a small amount of pity on him. “You need mentoring, and Stark won’t cut it. So, first lesson: extrapolating a hint into something useful. Here’s the hint: Sokovia and the Sokovia Accords. You’ve got a phone, let’s see what you can figure out while I finish these churros.”

This felt a lot more high-pressure than any class research assignment. (Those lacked an assassin staring at him while he tried to read and avoid wondering how many ways she could kill him with a churro.) But it was a lot more relevant. After a few minutes Peter looked back up from his phone, feeling sick.

“I think the guilt is because Mr. Stark blames himself for the deaths and destruction in Sokovia. And the grief too I guess? I can’t figure out Captain America, though, why’s he trying to protect the guy who blew up King T’Chaka and whoever was in the way?”

“That’s a start. Next lesson: keeping secrets. The Winter Soldier is actually Steve’s – ah – someone Steve knew very, very well before he was turned into an assassin. Steve believed he’d been framed for that hit, and that even if he hadn’t, he wasn’t responsible for what torture and brainwashing had turned him into. Steve’s been proven right on the first count, and whichever hit we’re talking about, he was right on the second. Which is important because the Winter Soldier _did_ kill Stark’s parents. Lashing out at the Winter Soldier and anyone who supported him was a convenient way for Stark to avoid his feelings about his dad.” She shrugged. “To be fair, Howard could be a grade-A asshole. But when you can blast things by waving your hand at them, you owe it to everyone else to process your fucking feelings.”

He shivered. Ben used to say –

She wasn’t done. “Stark was so busy emoting he refused to see his real enemy is the same as the Winter Soldier’s: the people who made the Soldier what he is. The Soldier is trying to become more than what he was made, and Steve’s risking everything to give him that chance. Maybe Stark doesn’t want to see what was done to the Soldier because acknowledging people can be manipulated into violence is one step closer to admitting that’s what he did to you.”

She stopped, pulled out her phone, and showed him what looked like a camera feed: a beautiful long-haired, huge-eyed girl in a cell, in some kind of confining jacket. He blinked, recognizing the face he’d seen at the airport. “She’s barely older than you, Peter. And she’s also trying to free herself from – you have no idea, do you, what can be done to people.” She stared at the image. “Steve wasn’t just acting out feelings for his – friend. He didn’t stop fighting the Soldier last time until the mission could afford it. But we weren’t even consulted on the wording of the Accords. When he and the rest were taken, they weren’t given lawyers – they were laughed at when they asked. This girl and the others who are locked up? There’ll be no trials and no release date, no publicity, and if you’d been on their side you’d be in the cell next to her. You could still end up there. That’s your homework: reading the Accords. And proposing changes.”

He scooted backwards a little before asking the next question, just in case. “So if the Accords are that bad, why’d you sign? Why’d you fight with Stark?”

If the questions made her angry, she didn’t show it. “Second question first: I had a mission, which was successful and which you don’t get to ask about. First question: Ever tried to fight a blob of jello? A cloud of smoke?”

“Uh…no?”

“I prefer my enemies solid and my controlling authority known. Doesn’t mean I won’t oppose it, but I like to know where the edges are and what the shadows look like. Lawlessness means instability. You leave the criminals you catch for the police. Why?”

“Well, uh, I mean, I shouldn’t be their judge, right? I gotta stop ’em, but that’s all I should do.” He tilted his head. “Why this conversation, though? You were talking about child soldiers – if you think that’s what I am, if you support the Accords, why not just go ahead and tell on me?”

Her eyebrows went up. “So you did catch that. Good.” She licked sugar off her fingers, then wiped her hands on her jeans. “I was running missions by the time I was seven. There was no oversight, no law to stop what was done to me and no adult who cared enough to try. I was utterly loyal, because they made sure of it. I was a weapon and nothing more. What was done to me, to the Winter Soldier, to Wanda and Pietro – it all should have been stopped. But you’re different. No one’s torturing you. No one except Stark has tried to control you. I hoped maybe you’d be able to start thinking for yourself if someone nudged you. And I was making life-and-death decisions well before your age, felt hypocritical not to give you a chance. Also, I don’t trust Ross.” She shrugged. “Your heart’s obviously in the right place. You just need to figure out where your head should be. Next time Stark tries to rope you into something, you gonna think before you jump?”

He sighed. “I think instead of patrolling this afternoon, I’m gonna sit right here and read the Accords.” He grimaced. “I don’t know a lot about reading legal stuff. If I have questions, uh…”

That got the first genuine smile she didn’t try to hide. “Are you asking for help?”

“Um, kinda? Yeah.”

The smile grew. “You’re already ahead of Stark, then. I’ll leave you my number.” A mischievous glint, with real warning behind it. “Beyond that – if I train you, you’re going to keep quiet about it, and I will _not_ go easy on you. We’ll skip the torture and mind games, but I won’t hold back on the fighting.”

“Is it even legal for you to hide my identity and train me? Since you’ve signed –”

The smile turned sharp and sly. “I’m coloring outside the lines. You are too, by the way, unless you want to register and let the UN decide what you do?”

“Uh…should I?”

“Your decision. Think about this while you’re reading the Accords, though: airports have security cameras everywhere. So Spider-Man has provably been active internationally – I’m not even going to ask whether Stark brought _that_ up ahead of time. Did you have German permission to even be there, much less get into a super-fight? And do hunt for anything on age limits, or mitigating circumstances like ‘fast-talked by your idol’ – you won’t find either – then read the section on imprisonment and ask me about the Raft.”

His head was spinning. He took a deep breath. “I don’t want to kill people.” He made himself hold her gaze. “I’m not going to be an assassin or a weapon. I’m a, I’m more like a shield.” He frowned and shook his head. “A safety net.”

After a moment, she nodded. “We’ll focus on the nonlethals.” At his sigh of relief, she frowned faintly. “Oh, you’re going to learn the lethals – yes, you _are_ , do you think we could afford to leave Chitauri unconscious behind us? Do you think Captain America never used his gun, or that he didn’t make a _choice_ to leave you alive at the airport? Do you think any of this is ever easy? If you refuse to learn you’ll be the tool chosen to break. I’m not making you a weapon, I’m insisting _you_ own your choices. Not me. Not Stark.”

He gnawed on his lip. Who was he to be telling her anything? No, thinking like that left the choices to her. He was the one with the powers. She’d trusted him enough to talk to him before deciding his future; she’d listen to him. He could learn a lot from her, and it didn’t seem like Mr. Stark was going to teach him. He drew a breath. “OK. I’ll learn it all. But for every lethal move I practice, I’m gonna practice the nonlethal version ten times over. I don’t have time to think it through in the middle of a fight, I won’t let you train my reflexes towards killing first.” He held out his hand. “Peter Parker. I, uh, I know you already know, but…” He left his hand out.

The Black Widow looked at it, looked back at him, and let him see half a smile. She shook his hand. “Agent Romanov. If you ever manage to take me down without webs you can call me Natasha. Take me down _and_ bring me churros and I’ll consider Nat.”

**Author's Note:**

> [ **“Boy Soldier” by Fred D’Aguiar**](https://www.theguardian.com/books/booksblog/2013/may/27/poem-of-the-week-fred-d-aguiar)  
>  What a smile! One large lamp for a face,  
> smaller lanterns where skin stretches over  
> bones waiting for muscle, body all angles.
> 
> His Kalashnikov fires at each moving  
> thing before he knows what he drags  
> down. He halts movement of every  
> kind and fails to weigh whom he stops
> 
> dead or maims, his bullets  
> like jabs thrown before the thought  
> to throw them, involuntary shudders  
> when someone, somewhere, steps over
> 
> his shallow, unmarked, mass grave.  
> But his smile remains undimmed,  
> inviting, not knowing what hit him,  
> what snuffs out the wicks in his eyes.
> 
> Except that he moves and a face just like  
> his figures like him to stop all action  
> with a flick of finger on the trigger.


End file.
